Girl Meets the Scientific Method
by PlrtzGlrb
Summary: Farkle and Riley, falling in love through trial and error. Riarkle with some Lucaya.
1. Girl Meets Inertia

A/N: After a recent binge of GMW, I'm feeling the urge to write Riarkle fic that demonstrates a realistic progression from friendship to romance over time. At the time that I'm writing this, the show has aired up through GM Sassy Halter Top. This chapter takes place during their junior year of high school.

* * *

1: Girl Meets Inertia

* * *

It's cold. Blisteringly cold. The wind blasts down New York City streets as the clouds gather overhead.

It smells like snow. Riley went to sleep tonight in snowflake pajamas - worn backwards and inside out, a superstitious practice she'd picked up at the age of four. To date, the pajamas have not failed to bring her joy.

The wind rattles the Bay Window, but Riley doesn't stir. She tosses beneath the covers. Buries her head in a pillow and softly snores. Riley doesn't hear the knocking when it comes. There's a rapping at the window, first soft, then urgent.

Nothing.

Farkle slides the window open, finally, and creeps inside like a Daddy Longlegs. He's practically too tall to function, a collection of limbs sewn together with string. Puberty gave to Farkle with both hands, and even now, Farkle would very much like to give some of it back.

Farkle immediately shuts the window behind him. Rubs his hands together for warmth and stalls. Riley is buried beneath a mountain of blankets and pillows.

Cautiously, Farkle approaches.

He taps her shoulder.

"Riley," he whispers.

Nothing. He squeezes her shoulder firmly, the warmth a welcome friend after his late night trek across the Lower East Side. God, what was he thinking?

"Riley," he says, a little louder.

He knows she's a heavy sleeper - finds it endearing, even - but tonight, Farkle doesn't have it in him to let her be.

"Riley," he says, desperation evident as his voice cracks. He shakes her. Pulls back the covers.

Riley starts awake, sees a man in her room and lashes out. "Intruder! I know tae kwon do!" She says, flailing wildly. Farkle falls to the ground and lands squarely on his butt.

"'I know kung fu.'"

"Then why are you on the ground?"

"No, the quote is- never mind."

"Farkle, what are you doing here?" she says, squinting through the dark. Riley glances at the digital readout at her bedside. 11:51 AM. "It's after 10 o'clock!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Riley gets out of bed and offers him a hand.

"What's going on?"

Farkle stands. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. Just looks her in the eyes - trusting as always. Then he spots her outfit. He grabs the tag dangling in front of him.

"Why are your pajamas backwards and inside out?"

Riley looks down, suddenly embarrassed. "It's my snow day tradition. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid."

Riley grins. "Yeah, I kind of love it."

Farkle smiles, proud of his goofball friend for remaining a goofball after all these years, but it fades as he remembers his reason for coming.

"What's wrong?" she asks, instantly recognizing the shift. Farkle opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. Riley grabs his hand and pulls him to the Bay Window.

"Bay window," she says, almost threateningly.

"Do you remember how last year, I missed your acapella audition to go to Smackle's debate?"

"Farkle. We talked about this. Sometimes Smackle comes first."

He shakes his head, no. "Smackle gave me an ultimatum. I go to the debate, or we break up."

"Why did you never tell me this?"

"Because Smackle was right. My whole life, you and Maya have been the priority. It wasn't fair to Smackle. It made her feel unimportant, like she was less than you. I had to respect where she was coming from, even if it put me in an uncomfortable position."

"That's really mature, Farkle." Riley picks at the hem of her flannel sleeve. A loose thread.

"Maybe." He stares at his hands. Cracked and raw from the cold. "I thought I was doing the right thing. Going to Smackle's debate. Studying with Smackle instead of with you. Taking Smackle's train after school."

"She's your girlfriend."

Farkle is silent.

"She is your girlfriend." It's a question.

"I told her about Boxing Day."

Riley beams. "I love Boxing Day."

"I do too. But Smackle invited me to go to Hawaii with her family for Christmas-"

"Hawaii! Coconuts! Spam!"

"I said no."

"You...said no to a free trip to Hawaii with your girlfriend over Christmas?" Riley smacks his arm. "Who broke you?" she says.

"I'm not broken. I just...couldn't imagine spending the day after Christmas with anyone but you."

Realization dawns on Riley, all at once. "Smackle's not your girlfriend anymore."

He smiles sadly. "Smackle's not my girlfriend anymore." His eyes well up, and Riley the Nurturer springs forth from the deep. "Come here, genius." She pulls him close. He stretches an arm across her waist and buries his head in her neck. She strokes his hair.

"Tell me I didn't make a horrible mistake," he says.

"Are you kidding me? Farkle. I don't think you've made a single mistake in your entire life."

"That's not true," he says.

"Little things, maybe," Riley offers.

Farkle pulls away. He seems to retreat into himself. "What if the last three years were a complete waste?"

"How could you say that? We're been through so much."

" _We_ have," he says, gesturing between them. His eyes are burning, now. "But what's the secret of life?"

"People change people," Riley says automatically.

"Smackle and I had the same relationship yesterday that we did three years ago. I'm a scientist, Riley. If the hypothesis is 'people change people,' I've either disproven it, or I'm an anomaly."

"Of course you're an anomaly. And so am I. And so are Smackle and Maya and Lucas and Zay."

"Like forces repel," he says, under his breath, like he's stumbled on an answer but hasn't yet found the question.

"What?"

"Like forces repel," he says, more confidently now. "Maybe your dad taught us that 'people change people' is the secret of life, but I think it's really that the people you should spend your life with are the ones that change you."

Riley stares at him for a long while, unsure how to respond. The Bay Window has failed, she thinks.

"I should go," he says. He turns to climb back out through the window, but Riley grabs his hand.

"You've changed me, Farkle," she says. "You change me every day."

"You change me, too." He sits back down but doesn't let go of her hand.

Outside, it snows.


	2. Girl Meets Negative Space

**A/N:** Last chapter was winter. This chapter is spring. You get it.

* * *

2: Girl Meets Negative Space

* * *

A gentle breeze rolls through the bay window, filtering in the distant sound of windchimes, honking cars, and laughing children. Clothes hang on wire in the alley outside the Matthews' Lower East Side apartment.

"Joy."

Riley adds her favorite orange scarf to a steadily growing mountain of clothing beside her. She picks up a pair of old jeans and holds them tightly to her chest. After a moment-

"Joy."

The jeans join the scarf atop the pile.

Farkle swings through the window and plops himself down on the bench.

"Joy." Riley adds a faded graphic tee ("I Love Mondays") to the heap.

"Naming emotions?"

Riley turns dramatically to face him and smiles in greeting. "I'm sparking joy, Farkle."

"Of course." Farkle scoots down to the floor to join her. Riley holds up a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses with cracked lenses.

"Joy!"

"I'm attempting to draw _any_ sort of conclusion based on what I'm seeing here, but I got nothin'."

Riley slumps her shoulders dramatically, like it's so obvious, it shouldn't need explaining. "The KonMari Method? You gather all of your objects in one place, pick up each of them one by one. If it sparks joy, you keep it. If not, _POOF!_ Gone forever."

Farkle nods, surveying the colossal "joy" pile beside her. "And what have you gotten rid of so far?"

"My toothbrush," she laments.

Farkle can't help but laugh. "This should be interesting."

Riley reaches for a sparkly tutu. "Princess Sparkle Butt!" Riley hugs it like an old friend.

"From the 2nd grade talent show?"

Riley nods. "Maya and I did our Hannah Montana routine. Definitely joy," she says.

"Even in 2nd grade, I knew. 'Those are my women.'"

"The best of both worlds," Riley quips.

Riley reaches for a dress. She turns it over in her hands. Purple and beaded and shiny. Riley's scrunches her nose. "This is the dress I wore on my first date with Lucas."

"I remember. I thought you looked very handsome."

"And you were beautiful, Farkle."

"Thank you."

Riley turns the dress over again, examining every detail.

"Huh."

Farkle looks at her with concern. "What?"

"It's not... Uh. What's the verb?"

A moment passes between them. "Sparking?" Farkle offers.

"That." Riley carefully folds the dress into a neat package. Folds it down to nothing. She sets it aside and moves on to the next piece from her consideration pile.

"Riley."

"I'm fine," she says, placing a well-worn pair of socks in the keep pile.

"Riley."

"What, Farkle?" she snaps. "Sorry," she says, immediately softening. Deep breaths. Farkle reaches out and squeezes her knee.

"It's okay to be not okay."

"I _am_. I mean, it's been _so long_. We've moved on," she says with a shrug. "I just thought there'd be... Anything."

Riley lets go of the jean jacket Maya forced her to try on at Demolition. She stares blankly into her lap.

"When Smackle and I broke up, I thought the whole world would stop and acknowledge it. But the next day came, and the next day. Time only moves in one direction. Well, time is an illusion. That's not the point."

Riley swats him on the shoulder. He massages the spot, fake-wounded.

"I get it, I get it. Perspective and people changing people and blah-dee-dah-dee-dah."

Farkle shakes his head. "I look at it like... Like negative space."

"What now?"

Farkle springs to his feet and quickly scours the room for a pencil and paper. He plops down right next to Riley and draws a circle. "What do you see?"

"A circle."

"Okay, what else."

"Paper, a pencil, a sparkly Farkly," she needles.

He laughs and double-taps the notepad. "On the paper."

Riley stares for a moment. Strains to parse some hidden meaning, but she's lost. "I... I don't. It's a circle."

Farkle takes the pencil and shades the rest of the paper in, filling the entire space around it. "When I drew the circle, I was also drawing the space around the circle."

"The negative space."

"Exactly."

Gears are turning. "I think I remember Maya talking about this. It's... easier to draw the space around an object than to draw the object itself."

"Right."

"So, how does this lesson mysteriously relate back to an event in my personal love life?"

"Maybe, instead of looking at your relationship with Lucas as a circle-"

"-look at the space we created. I get it." Riley pauses, taking it in. She scratches her head. "How are you so wise?"

"I'm Farkle Minkus."

"Yes, you are."

"The one and only."

"Okay, we get it, you're a wizard." Riley surveys the mess she's made. Everything she owns, strewn about the room, like her clothing had gained sentience and thrown a rager of its own accord. "Speaking of negative space, I think I have negative space left on my floor. I am not cut out for the life changing magic of tidying up." Farkle stares at her. Blinks. "It's the title of the book."

"Do you want me to help you put this stuff away since you're probably going to keep it all anyway?"

"You know me well," she says, hand over heart.

And so they clean, and fold, and shelve, and dust. And the space on the floor grows and grows, until everything is put back in its place.

Except for the purple dress.

* * *

 **A/N** : If you liked this, please leave a comment. I am shameless in my love for praise and approval. Part 3: soonish!


	3. Girl Meets Magnetism

3: Girl Meets Magnetism

* * *

"Iwannachocotaco!"

" _Maaaaya._ " Lucas whines. Maya hovers over him, covering him in shade. It's a sunny day in Central Park - impossibly so. New Yorkers from every borough flock to Sheep Meadow. Maya, in a swimsuit and jean shorts, dances a shamelessly funky Funky Chicken.

"Choco, taco, choco, taco," she chants.

"Dammit, Lucas, you heard the woman," Riley says. She's on her stomach, sprawled out and sunbathing, half-asleep.

"Get the woman a chocolate taco," Farkle says.

"Come on." Lucas relents.

"CHOCO TACO!" Maya cheers. She jumps for joy. Lucas digs around in his swim trunks for his wallet. "Chop chop," Maya says, scooting him along.

"Evil," Lucas says, but he puts up no fight. They head off toward an ice cream cart on the edge of the field.

"And an orange dreamsicle for me!" Riley says, calling after.

It's quiet, all things considered. There are hundreds of city dwellers milling about the park, with picnic baskets and frisbees and little dogs on leashes. But even in this gathering place, everyone is in their own private city. Manhattan is an island, but New York is an archipelago.

Farkle leans back on his elbows, taking in the scene. Two men in three-piece suits walk through the grass eating ice cream from tiny paper bowls. Expensive loafers be damned. What kind of deal might they be brokering over fro-yo on this sweltering summer Tuesday? And where else but New York?

A family of ten plays latin music on a boom box up ahead. They are laughing, and laughing, and laughing. Farkle briefly wonders what it's like to grow up in a family that laughs, or sits in parks. But that's a train of thought best left in the station.

An alarm goes off on Riley's phone. Riley lifts her head to snooze it. She cranes her neck around, instinctively seeking Maya. She spots Maya and Lucas in the distance, still far back in line for ice cream. Lucas, with his head resting on top of Maya's, arms slung over her shoulders. Riley sighs. "Can you get my back?"

Riley's voice snaps Farkle out of his reverie. "Your what?"

"I need to reapply sunscreen."

"Oh." Farkle doesn't budge. Riley clocks his awkwardness and pulls herself up on her elbows.

"Here, dummy." She reaches into her purse and grabs the sunscreen. She pops the cap and squeezes a cool dollop into Farkle's unsuspecting palm. Riley gathers her hair to the side and lays back down.

Farkle cautiously warms the sunscreen between his hands.

"So just, like...go for it," he says, inflecting upwards. Part question, part pep-talk. He arches his fingers away from her back as he smears the sunscreen on her bare shoulder blades. Riley, sensing his discomfort, opens a questioning eye.

"How ya doin', buddy?"

Farkle cracks a smile, a sliver of tension relieved. "I've been worse." Farkle finishes slopping globs of white lotion around on Riley's back. He wipes his hands on his bare, pasty calves. Riley gets a look at her back with her iPhone camera.

"Farkle!" Riley sits up. "Come on, work with me here." Farkle gives her a look that says _the things I do for friendship_ , but he obliges. He begins rubbing the chalk-white lines of lotion into her skin. Across the tops of her shoulders, up her neck to her hairline, down along the edges of her backless one-piece - careful to extend the coverage just beyond the borders. He finds new freckles and silently congratulates them on being Riley's freckles. Riley smiles dreamily. "Look at that guy."

An old man in a bronze, metallic speedo practices tai chi on the lawn before them. His whole body glistens, beet-red in the hot July sun.

"That's Fat Sal."

"You know him?" Riley asks, angling her body towards him. Farkle rubs the remaining lotion on his swim trunks and pulls a knee up toward his chest. Riley leans against it like lawn furniture.

Farkle shakes his head. "It's a name I gave him about 10 minutes ago."

Riley smiles. "Fat Sal. What a guy."

"Could you imagine having half of Fat Sal's confidence?"

Riley furrows her brow. "What are you talking about? You're the most self-possessed person I know."

"I'm sunbathing in a t-shirt. Meanwhile," Farkle motions over his shoulder to Lucas, who is shirtlessly juggling an assortment of frozen treats. Literally, juggling. A group of tourists gather around and cheer on the spectacle.

"Yeah, but, so? You're always yourself. You don't need to wear dumb speedos or juggle popsicles. You're Farkle." A beat, as Riley watches Lucas. "He is really good at that."

"But what does that even mean? I'm 'Farkle.'" Farkle uses air quotes.

"You defy definition. You're...goofy, and thoughtful, passionate, kind. _Incredibly_ annoying."

" _HEH!_ " Farkle honks. Riley bursts into giggles.

"And you're handsome, and genius, and brave."

"I sound like a pretty cool guy."

Riley punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Because you _are_ , Minkus."

A moment passes between them. Eye contact that lingers just a little too long. Riley leans back against Farkle's knee.

"Popsicles, popsicles, get your ice cold popsicles," Maya sing-songs. She hands Riley her orange creamsicle and plops down beside her. Lucas hands an ice cream sandwich to Farkle and stretches his torso. "Sorry we were gone so long. Lucas was signing _autographs_."

"They were _nice ladies,_ " Lucas says.

"So what'd we miss?" Maya asks through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Riley thinks I'm handsome," Farkle quips.

"Yeah, no shit," Maya says. Riley looks down at the blanket. A quilt her grandma gave her when she was still a baby.

Farkle turns pink.

"I think you're very handsome," Lucas says. He pulls his leg up and assumes the vriksasana pose.

"And so do I," Maya adds, dousing the fire in Farkle's cheeks. Maya crumples up the sticky chocolate wrapper and tosses it in the grass. "Seriously, Huckleberry, with the yoga right now?"

"I just saw you litter."

Maya rolls her eyes and picks up the wrapper. "You're standing around like a new age-y huckleberry."

"It's _very relaxing_."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, pulling herself up.

"Maya," he warns, balance perfect.

"Are you feeling relaxed?"

" _Mayyaaa."_

Maya circles around Farkle and Riley, duck-duck-goose style, and chases after Lucas, who is already sprinting deeper into the meadow.

Riley and Farkle watch them go. Weaving around lounging couples and families in a frenzied game of tag. "I want that," Riley says quietly, after a moment. It's an admission, like something she's been meaning to say for ages that finally came up. Clocking Farkle's expression, Riley explains. "Not _that_. Not _them_. But, there's something, I don't know...magnetic, I guess."

"You'll find it," Farkle says.

"Will I?"

"You will." She gives him a look. "Riley, there are few non-empirically provable things in this world that I believe in. And I believe you're going to get everything you want out of life."

Riley flashes a watery smile. "Did I mention before that you're a really great friend?"

Farkle shrugs. "All I got outta that was 'handsome.'"

"Shut up."

" _You think I'm goooorgeous_ -" he sings.

"Stop," she protests, biting down on her lip to stop from laughing.

" _-you want to kiiiiiiiissss me-_ "

"If you don't stop singing-"

"- _you want to huuuuug me-"_

Riley goes in for the kill. She attacks his sides with tickles. He collapses against the quilt instantly. Riley plops over onto her back beside him, then rolls back onto her stomach and resumes her sunbathing position.

"I can't believe you broke the tickle pact," Farkle says, incredulously.

"And I'd do it again," she says through a yawn. Farkle rolls onto his side to face her. Eyes closed, hair tangled, glowing.

Farkle understands a thing or two about the laws of physics. Can recite Faraday's law of induction by heart - all of Maxwell's equations, for that matter. Could break down his feelings into hormones, into chemicals, into atoms, into dust. But right now, he doesn't want to.

Right now, he wants to experience this tightness in his throat as a feeling and not an equation. He wants to remember the exact moment he fell in love with Riley Matthews as exactly that.

So he closes his eyes, and he hopes.


	4. Girl Meets Covalent Bond

4: Girl Meets Covalent Bond

* * *

"In here."

Riley waves Farkle toward a bookstore. The window display boasts discounts for NYU students, with orange and red ivy crawling up the stone facade. College freshmen in peacoats gather outside with hot coffee and cigarettes.

They duck inside. Riley immediately reaches for a copy of _Spark Joy_. She waves it in Farkle's face. "See! I _told_ you it was a thing." Farkle grabs the book from her hand and places it back on the display.

"I never doubted your honesty. Only your sanity." Riley rolls her eyes. "Here we go," Farkle says, picking up another book. " _Organization for Dummies_." Riley swats him on the arm with a thick volume of poetry. "I deserved that."

They explore, going deeper into the winding stacks, until they discover a cafe hidden at the back of the store.

"You want anything?"

"Hot chocolate, please."

"Two hot chocolates," Farkle orders. He pays and accepts the drinks, passing one off to Riley. They cheers and grab a table in the corner.

"This is _good_ hot chocolate," Riley says.

"I concur."

"This is _college_ hot chocolate."

"Even better."

"Feel my forehead," Riley instructs. Farkle places the back of his hand on her head. "Do I feel smarter?"

Farkle grins. "Yes, Riley. You feel smarter."

"I knew it," Riley says, pumping her fist in celebration.

"Uh, excuse me." A petite red-head in an NYU sweatshirt interrupts. "Do you know how to get to Bobst from here?"

"Um, sure," Farkle says. "If you take 4th past the park, it'll be on your right."

"Thank you. Ugh, I'm a mess," she says, apologizing. She waves and exits in a hurry.

Riley lights up. "She thought we were students."

" _College_ students," Farkle adds. "Hey, be right back," he says, motioning to the bathroom.

Riley picks at the cardboard sleeve of her cup. It's been a long time since she and Farkle spent any alone time together. With college applications in the mix, they've hardly had time for each other outside of study sessions, anyway. He's the same Farkle he's always been - loyal, kind, a genius - with some notable differences, like the height, and the messy hair, the iron jaw, the cool-guy denim jacket... _God, that jacket_. "What's with the James Dean audition?" Maya had asked when he first picked it up. "I'm a rebel with _many_ causes," he'd shot back.

Riley has taken Farkle for granted this whole time, she realizes. Every change occurred so gradually, she'd hardly noticed that Farkle had transformed into a well-rounded, outgoing, calming presence. On paper, she considers, Farkle is a god. Vice president of the Mathletes. Co-chair of the debate team. A couple of starring roles in school plays. Science fair blue ribbons. Essay competitions destroyed. Perfect SATs and an impossible GPA. All Riley has to her name is a regular column in the school paper and an abbreviated stint on the rhythmic gymnastics team.

The more she thinks about it, sitting here, picking at the now-decimated sleeve of her coffee cup, she realizes the actual magnitude of the difference between them.

"Ready to go?" he asks, returned to the table.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Can you believe this is gonna be us next year?" Farkle asks. He and Riley stroll through Washington Square Park, their hot chocolates long since discarded. There are students everywhere. Playing acoustic guitar by the fountain. Reading important-looking books on the lawn.

Riley, not responding, kicks a leaf on the ground.

"What's going on? You've been acting weird since we left that bookstore."

"I don't know."

"And the real answer?"

Riley lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Why do you even want to go to NYU?"

"What?"

"You could go literally anywhere you wanted. You could probably go to college on Mars if you wanted to."

"Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know!"

"Do you not want me to stay in New York?"

"Of course not!" By now, they're practically shouting at each other in the middle of the park.

"It doesn't sound like it."

"I just think you should keep your options open."

"What? Like Stanford, MIT, Princeton?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Harvard, Oxford, the Sorbonne," he lists them off, his voice almost taunting.

"I'm not going to hold you back."

"Hold me back? You think I haven't thought about those schools already?" Riley's anger falls, but Farkle's is just now coming to a boil. "Yeah, I'd probably get in. And I'd go, and I'd learn a lot, and maybe I'd get a leg up in life with a diploma from a school like that." Tears percolate behind Riley's eyes. "Riley, I can get an education anywhere. But where else am I supposed to find a friend like you?"

Riley's face goes hot. Her heart drops to her stomach, adrenaline pumping. She grabs him without thinking and pulls him in for a kiss. Farkle, in complete shock, responds after a moment of hesitation. But it's a moment too late. Riley pulls away, completely flushed. "I'm sorry." Farkle shakes his head. "I don't know where that—" But Farkle cuts her off with another kiss. He runs his hands through her hair, pulling her as close as she can possibly be. She throws her arms around his neck and stands on tip toes to meet him. It's urgent, and a complete surprise, and they don't even notice the crowd gathering around them, cheering them on.

They pull apart. "Wow," is all she can muster.

"Yeah."

They take a beat, untangling, awkward as they acknowledge their growing audience. "So, NYU?" Riley says. And like that, balance is restored.

"NYU," he says.

Their hands intertwine automatically.

"Sooooo, have you thought about grad school?"

Farkle plants a kiss on Riley's forehead.

They walk.


End file.
